by Arell Rivers
Cole kisses my forehead. “So, what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”
“I’ll connect with Platinum about the release strategy for the video for ‘No One to Hold.’ I’ll also make sure the media knows about your date with Emilie tomorrow night, then get ready for your prep meeting on Wednesday so you’ll be all set for the upcoming media blitz. You’re going to be everywhere—radio, TV and print”
“Nothing much going on then, huh?”
I giggle. “Nope. It’s a shame that my one and only client is so boring.”
In a flash, I’m on my stomach. Cole’s body is pressed against the length of my back, his hands moving around my hips to pull my lower body upward. His thigh nudges my legs apart.
He nips at my shoulder. “Boring? Let me show you how boring your client is.”
Tuesday morning
SHARI AND I sit across from each other in a high-sided booth. I can barely see the top of Roberto’s head across the crowded café. About fifty tables and booths are jammed into the small space, filled with local businesspeople escaping their offices for lunch. It’s my first visit to this no-frills café, and I’m enjoying the fun vibe.
“Are you gearing up for Cole’s press junket?”
I nod at Shari while skewering my salad with a fork. “He’ll be in the office tomorrow for prep.”
“Tell me what time. I’ll make sure to walk by the conference room and maybe bring him coffee.” She winks and takes a sip from her diet soda, her light brown eyes sparkling.
I’m tempted to tell her about Cole and me, but Greta’s dire warnings replay in my head. I’m on thin ice. “He’ll be in at eleven. Kim wanted to take the lead in prepping him, but thankfully Greta didn’t allow it.”
“Can you imagine? Kim would be fawning all over him rather than hitting him with the hard questions reporters will ask. Although, I’m surprised that Greta isn’t doing it herself.” She finishes her sweet potato fries.
I pick through my salad to get to the dried cranberries and goat cheese. “I’m sure she’ll pop in. She looked over my prep work this morning.”
“She stopped by my office to review my strategies this morning, too. She didn’t change anything I had planned, thank God.”
“So everything is on track with your clients?”
Nodding, she says, “If Bethany Dixon gets that movie role, her career will take off to the stratosphere.”
“That’s great. I hope she gets the part.”
“Me, too.” Shari leans in, causing me to do the same. “We’ve become good friends over the past few years. She’s a super person, and a really hard worker. She even takes acting classes when her series is on hiatus.”
I’m flattered that Shari shared this with me, as Greta certainly wouldn’t be favorably inclined toward the friendship, non-fraternization and all that. Maybe my secret would be safe with her?
“My fingers are crossed. Will you be ready for the craziness when she gets the part?”
“I sure will. I’ve been researching and brainstorming on my off-hours so I’ll be ready to present my ideas to Greta.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“I learned from the best. I saw how prepared you were when Cole’s music career jumped to the next level. You never missed a beat.”
I’m flattered that Shari paid such close attention to me back then, not to mention that she learned from my strategy. However, I can’t stop myself from saying, “Until Las Vegas.”
She waves her hand. “That was totally out of your control. Short of handcuffing yourself to that man, how were you supposed to have prevented that?”
Her use of the word “handcuffs” in relation to Cole summons all sorts of tantalizing images. To redirect my wayward thoughts, I focus on spearing more lettuce with my fork. “Well, it’ll all be over in just three more days.”
“Good. Then maybe Greta will get you off that ridiculous probation and things can settle down in the office.”
After taking one last bite of her sandwich, she puts her napkin on the table. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” I nod, and Shari leaves the booth and heads toward a sign indicating the ladies’ room.
The large group in the center of the café stands shakily, having clearly enjoyed more than a couple of cocktails during their lunch break. I check my phone to see if Cole texted me. Out of my peripheral vision, I notice someone wearing sneakers approach my table and sit down in Shari’s vacated seat.
Surprised, I say, “This seat is taken.”
No response.
I look up.
My new tablemate is a woman. She has long, brown hair with red highlights. Like mine. “I’ll only be a minute, Rose. We need to get some things straight.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. It’s Starr—Lisa Nelson. In disguise. My heartrate accelerates. My eyes dart to Roberto, whom I can barely see through the throng of customers still loitering by their table, then focus back on her.
“Lisa.”
She plays with what appears to be a large diamond and wedding ring on her left hand. “Mrs. Starr Manchester to you. I don’t know what the fuck you’ve said to my husband to make him ignore me, but I deserve respect. Get that prissy model out of his house and you”—she pulls a steak knife from her sleeve and points it at me, causing my breath to stick in my throat—“keep your grubby paws off him. I had an interview, and I’m telling the world every detail.”
I maintain my professional mask while tracking the knife’s every movement. “Who interviewed you?” I stall.
Roberto rushes toward me, pushing people out of his way. Loud complaints follow in his wake.
She cackles. Waving the knife, she replies, “Anita.” She leans forward. “Cole and I belong together. You.” She flicks the knife at me. “Are.” Flick. “History.”
A chill runs down my spine when she leaps across the table and jabs the knife toward my throat. I duck to the side, my hands flying to my neck.
With a growl, Roberto yanks her backward.
“Bitch,” she shrieks.
As if in fast-forward, Starr twists away from the booth, wrenches her arm free and slashes the knife downward. Directly into Roberto’s thigh.
He grunts in pain.
She springs away from him and sprints toward the door, leaving the knife lodged obscenely in Roberto’s leg.
“Roberto!” I jump to his side and help him down to the empty seat, screaming, “Stop her!”
But I’m too late. Lisa has already disappeared into the jumble of patrons yelling and scrambling for the door. My whole body sags.
Shari rushes up to me, concern evident on her face. “What happened?” Her gaze lands on Roberto, then narrows to my hand hovering over the steak knife. She gasps, but recovers enough to shout, “Don’t take that out!”
I retreat from the knife as if it were on fire. To no one in particular, I shout, “Call an ambulance.”
Our server approaches us. “They’re on their way.” Her pallor is the only sign of nerves as she hands me a glass of water.
“I’ll be fine,” Roberto manages from between clenched teeth.
He’s sweating. Kneeling by his side, I offer him the glass. “Here, drink this.”
He drinks it slowly, then fishes into his pocket. “I have to call Kates.”
Placing my hands on his, I say, “I’ll do that for you. Don’t move.”
He chuckles. At least I think it’s a chuckle. “You’re worried about this scratch? I’ll get a couple of stitches and be back on the job before you can miss me.”
I almost believe him, but so much blood is seeping through his pant leg. Around the knife embedded in his thigh.
A stretcher is pushed through the restaurant’s doors. Even in his weakened state, Roberto orders, “Call Kates and stay here until my replacement comes.” Two EMTs fall in around him and help him onto the stretcher. They push me away when I try to follow.
Shari directs me back to the booth, and I promptly collapse onto the se
at. Somehow I manage to dial Nolan, who instructs me to tell the cops everything I just told him, and wait here for another guard from his firm to arrive.
Shari’s questions finally pierce my foggy brain, her voice at least an octave higher than normal. “Rose, talk to me. Who is that? Is he your boyfriend?”
Adrenaline flows out of my system like a deflated balloon. I stifle my tears. On an exhale, I say, “Roberto—the guy who was stabbed—is my bodyguard.”
Shari’s eyes dart from me to the door, then land back on me. Raising confused eyebrows, she asks, “Why do you have a bodyguard?”
I hedge, “Because my boyfriend has a stalker.” The ambulance’s shrill sirens penetrate the small café before diminishing into the distance.
Shari sits back. I see her working through my admission. “Was the stalker in here?”
Nodding, I say, “Yes, she was. She threatened me. Again.”
Shari leans forward, hands reaching out for mine. “Oh my God. I’m glad you’re in one piece.”
I offer her a small smile. “But Roberto isn’t.”
“My boyfriend’s an ER resident. He tells me lots of stories about what he sees in the hospital. I’m sure Roberto will be fine.”
I sigh. “He has to be. He got hurt because of me.” A second time.
My cell pings. Nolan texted me that Jared is Roberto’s replacement. Again. While we wait for him to arrive, I replay Starr’s conversation in my head. She gave me her interviewer’s name, but my racing mind won’t let me place an “Anita.”
“Do you know a reporter by the name of Anita?” I ask Shari.
“The one who works for The Gossip?”
“That’s right. I couldn’t remember.”
“Rose, talk to me,” Shari says softly, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. “You’re not making any sense.”
“The stalker said she had an interview with Anita. I thought Greta said she contacted The Gossip to squelch the story.” I’m basically talking to myself out loud, but it’s helping me put the pieces together. Did the publication lie to Greta?
“At the risk of sounding obtuse, why would Greta be involved with your boyfriend’s stalker? And why would your stalker be going to the tabloids?”
She’s going to figure this out one way or another. Please let this not be a mistake. I don’t say a word, my eyes glued on the cops as they talk with the restaurant staff at a vacant table.
“Wait a minute. Greta’s been working her contacts to keep Cole’s wife out of the media.”
I nod.
“Oh.”
Shari’s eye widen to the size of quarters and her head jerks up and down like a bobble head doll. Still nodding, she picks up a spoon and sets it down on her plate.
Clearing her throat, she finally says, “You and Cole. You’ve kept everything so professional. Well, I guess you had to with Greta and all. I mean, he seems like a really cool guy. Okay, I’m going to shut up now.” Her fingers graze across her mouth, making the “zipped” motion.
She rummages through her purse and takes out a package of mints, pops one in her mouth and offers me one. I accept. “I thought he had a wife, not a stalker.”
The way she rambles reminds me of McKenna in a way. I’m impressed that she deduced the truth so quickly, and grateful that she didn’t question if I’m delusional, the way that Kim and Melanie no doubt would. “We’ve been keeping things from Greta.”
“Can’t imagine why.” She smiles as me, so I know she’s teasing.
My brain begins to reengage, and I manage a small smile in return. “Unfortunately, that also means I couldn’t tell her the extent of his stalker’s threats. They’re mainly against me, although she’s recently included Emilie in them.”
She places her hand on top of mine. “Your secret is safe with me, Rose.”
“Thank you.” And just like that, an unbreakable bond forms between us.
The police walk over to ask me what happened. I give them the details of my conversation with Lisa, sending little glances at Shari as I speak. When I finish, one officer says, “Thanks, ma’am. We’ll follow up with The Gossip angle. I’ll make sure that Detective Mahoney is informed about this latest attack.”
When the officers leave, Jared walks over to us. “Miss Morgan.”
I crane my neck upward, taking in the tall African-American man who must weigh close to three hundred pounds. I shake his oversized hand and introduce him to Shari.
“Kates gave me your car information,” Jared says, “and I checked it out before I came in. You’re good to go.”
“Thanks, Jared. We have to get back for Greta’s monthly professional education seminar.” Otherwise, I would have gone home. Or to the hospital with Roberto.
As I drive us back to the office, Shari says, “I want to apologize to you for what I said earlier about bringing coffee to your boyfriend in the conference room tomorrow. I feel really stupid.”
“Please, don’t feel that way. It’s fine.” I smile at her. “Cole is going to have a cow when he finds out about what happened. I think I’ll tell him after his publicity date with Emilie tonight.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Sit back while he publicly dates that supermodel. I would be clawing the walls.”
“It’s tough,” I admit. “But it’s not any different from what we ask our clients to do. They have to make appearances with people they’re not dating all the time.”
She cocks her head. “That’s true.”
“Emilie’s good for his image. She’s French and he’s about to go on his first world tour. Plus, you know people love it when rockers date models. Gets them in magazines.”
“I don’t think I’d be as calm as you are if my boyfriend had to spend time with a swimsuit model.”
“She’s a sweetheart,” I say. And now that I’ve met her, I actually mean it.
I pull into an empty parking spot, and Jared claims the one next to me. Before I can turn the engine off, my phone rings over the hands-free Bluetooth attached to my visor. It’s Cole. “So much for keeping my run-in with Starr a secret,” I mutter.
“Good luck. I’ll save you a seat for the seminar.” Shari gathers her things.
Checking my watch, I answer the call. “Hi, Cole.” Fifteen minutes to spare.
“Come home right now, Ro. I’m going to fucking tie you to my bed until that Psycho Bitch is behind bars.”
Shari giggles and gives me a thumbs up before closing the car door. I can feel heat flush my neck and ears. Great.
“Cole, I’m fine. We were in a public restaurant. Roberto . . .” I close my eyes. Clearing my throat, I continue, “Roberto stopped her.”
His voice softens. “I heard. Kates said he’ll be fine; he just needs stitches. Please, tell me exactly what happened.”
His words about Roberto unclench the knot in my stomach. I replay the entire encounter for him.
“What a nutcase. Where are you? Come home to me.”
I can picture Cole pacing, running his fingers through his gorgeous hair. He’s probably wearing a rut in the patio by the swimming pool. I would love to be in his arms, but I can’t. In addition to everything that just happened, Strike Two floats in my mind.
“Cole, I can’t. Greta has a mandatory professional education seminar starting in ten minutes. Plus, I need to get in touch with The Gossip about Lisa’s interview. I’ll try to be home before you and Emilie go out on your date. If I’m not there, please remember to look all lovey-dovey for the paparazzi.” Work will keep my mind preoccupied.
“I want you here.”
“I know you do, but I can’t miss this seminar. Jared’s taking over for Roberto again. He’ll keep me safe.”
“Fine.”
That was easy. Almost too easy. Not wanting to rattle his cage any more, I end the call and make my way back into the building. Jared walks beside me until we reach the office door, then I leave him in the hallway.
After the excruciating ho
ur-long seminar, I get to work on tracking down Anita to put the kibosh on Lisa’s story. Once I get all the details, I go to Greta’s office. “I got a tip that Anita from The Gossip met with Starr.”
Greta frowns. “I spoke with that rag last week. They promised me they wouldn’t run the story.”
“I did some digging and it seems Starr lowered her price. The Gossip took the bait and did an interview with her. Starr has to get this out before the marriage is proven to be fake.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Let it be published. We’ll issue a statement from Cole that denies everything. When her story is proven false, it’ll be on the magazine.”
I don’t want Lisa Nelson to get any more publicity. Not to mention what she could have said about me. But is that Cole’s girlfriend talking, or his publicist? If the story is proceeding, can we really do anything to quash it? “I’ll get to work on the statement.”
“Have Kim draft it.”
Before I can argue, noise from the hallway draws our attention. I would know that voice anywhere. And it sounds . . . determined.
“I was in the neighborhood and wanted to take another look at the photos for my video.” My insides cringe.
Kim’s simpering voice cuts through the din. “No problem, Cole. I’ll get the photos for you right away. Why don’t we go into the conference room?”
Crap. He couldn’t chance not seeing me before his date tonight with Emilie. He’s playing with fire.
Greta clears her throat. “Don’t you have the photos in your office? Go get them.”
In a daze, I nod and return to my office. I pull the box of photos from my credenza and take out the oversized manila envelope marked “No One to Hold Video,” placing it on top of my desk.
“Let me have those photos, Rosie.” Kim swipes the envelope from my desk. “I need to make sure Cole has everything he wants.” She looks me up and down. “You don’t have to bother yourself with this. After all, you’ll be with me prepping him tomorrow and it would be unseemly for you to drool over him two days in a row. We don’t want you scaring him away.”